Pleasant Company
by Stalker Witch
Summary: Two Rules: 1) Live for today 2) Be nice. Those were the two rules that Dalthe always followed. As Dragonborn, there were many paths ahead of her. With Alduin dead, cultists tried to kill her and now there is this mysterious place called Solstheim. She looks over a letter at a name, 'Miraaak". Had a nice ring to it, she thought. Who was this guy anyway?
1. The Dragonborn and Cultists

The wind felt nice sometimes, but when the wind carried fire, it wasn't. That being said, the dragon

overhead was becoming quite a nuisance. Dalthe ducked behind a stone as the fire-breather breathed in

her direction. The flames flew around the rock, the heat scorched her skin but not as badly as a

direct hit would. Damn this thing! Dragons were supposed to be dead, not flying around like they owned

the place. She'd just been trying to get to town, but nooo, the damn thing had to see her out of all

the guards that were trying to take it down. She was the target.

Dalthe let out a small curse, trying to figure out how to proceed. She pulled out an arrow and notched

it, taking aim once the flames died. She shot the dragon, getting a hit on it's teeth as it roared,

but no damage was done. "DAMN LIZARD! DIE!" She roared back at it.

The guards from the town kept shooting at the dragon that was solely focused on Dalthe. Most arrows

barely made a dent though. Dalthe dropped her bow, unsheathed her enchanted great sword and charged the

beast. Dalthe loved to fight, it was one of her favorite things. The adrenaline was thrilling and the

way blood splattered over her leather armor when she cut through her foes was delicious. She loved the

noise and metallic smell battle brought. Dalthe made it within feet of the dragon, the tip of her

sword reaching just ahead of her stabbing into the beasts snout. "HAHA," she jeered. "Got yeh now!"

The beast growled, flapping it's wings and taking off gracefully into the sky. Dalthe watched as the

dragon flew circles higher and higher into the sky, looking down on the ground. Arrows were shot and

missed, Dalthe's vision faded to just the dragon. A chaotic grin was split on her face, she was blood

thirsty and lived very up to the Nord standard of foolish and barbaric.

The dragon swooped quickly down. Fire fell across the grasses of the field as it headed for Dalthe.

She dodged to the left quite a distance, licking her dry lips in anticipation for the right moment.

She sheathed her great sword and pulled a very decorated looking dagger from her boot. "Gonna be fun,"

she growled, eyes wide.

The dragon landed just ahead of Dalthe on the fallen crest of the tower it had toppled. Dalthe

charged, feet bringing her quickly to the dragon's head. It swiped to the side, trying to bite down on

her, but missed by a hair. "Not so fast big boy," Dalthe laughed. She jumped the dragon then. Right

onto it's neck, her legs straddling on either side. Dalthe was about ready to stab into the scales

when she had to grab on or fall off the creature. "Ahahaha, So that's how we play!"

Dalthe gripped tightly around the massive neck, locking her hand around her wrist to not let go as

easily. The dragon tried to get her to fall off. To no avail, even as it flipped through the air.

"LAND," Dalthe yelled above the fierce wind from flying around. She hadn't expected the wind to bite

this much up here. "FIGHT ME YOU COWARD!"

The dragon roared, flying in circles. Dalthe couldn't keep enough balance on the dragon to stab at it.

Minus the fact that she'd dropped her dagger in surprise on takeoff, so that idea was out. She bit the

dragon and met smooth scales. One of the guards got lucky and hit the dragon in the wind with an

arrow. The dragon howled and spiraled down a short distance to the ground. The impact jostled Dalthe

enough to force her onto the ground. Dust settled around her and the dragon as they both growled.

Dalthe darted to her feet when she regained her bearings.

The dragon was breathing fire straight ahead at the guards. Dalthe took this ample distraction to

charge the dragon with her sword in the air. She swiped her sword straight down as she leapt into the

air towards it's head. The sword went straight through the thin flesh with a soft squelch. The dragon

let out a soft final roar as it died, Dalthe grinning all the while. "Now that," she cheered, ripping

her sword free of the head. "Was a damn good fight."

The guards started to gather around her, cheering. She cheered with them, then a thought came to mind.

"Which one shot the arrow," she yelled over the din of noise.

While many would try to claim it was them, these nords held their honor on their sleeves and pushed

one of the masked brethren towards Dalthe. "Good shot lad," Dalthe said, grabbing onto his arm. "You

nearly felled the beast yourself."

The guard grabbed her arm in return and nodded. "Thank yeh miss, but that champion feat goes to yeh.

Not I."

Dalthe laughed heartily. "True, but it was good fight for all," she replied jovially.

Everything was silent for a moment after that as what sounded like a fire started to roar behind them

all, right where the dragon lay dead. Dalthe turned about and stared openly as the corpse started to

flake off like embers in a fire. All stepped back as the roaring gained intensity and became louder

and louder. What was..

A light of many colors swirled off the dragon as it become nothing but bones. The light flowed as if

sentient towards Dalthe and enveloped her. She jumped surprised. Then let out a noise as her skin

heated, the lights passed into her body. She could feel it in her bones, flowing hotly through her

veins. The roaring was so loud in her ears she couldn't hear herself think. Then it was gone just like

that. The warmth in her bones lingered, but the sound was gone.

The guard whom shot the dragon stared on with disbelief. That was evident in all those around him.

"It.. it can't be. You're Dragonborn!"

Dalthe turned back to them, about to say something when her mind was assaulted with a word she didn't

understand. The word made her want to scream. Her throat itched and burned. So she turned her head to

the sky and shouted, "FUS!" There was a rush of wind from her shout, bursting through the air loudly

and even visibly. She stared at the space amazed for a few moments. "Did I do that?"

"There! You did it! You shouted!" The guard said amazed. Here was the legendary dragonborn of old,

standing not two paces away.

"I did, didn't I?" Dalthe laughed. She looked pleased with herself. It wasn't everyday you found you

were like the old tales your parents told as children. "Exhilarating!"

Many days after finding out she was Dragonborn, Dalthe had met with the old Greybeards at High

Hrothgar. She learned more on shouts and what they called "The Way of the Voice". She delved easily

into their teachings, enjoying every minute of it. She felt exhilarated each time she used a shout,

her blood hummed each time.

Dalthe went on a few fetch quests for them, getting mixed up with a few people from the "Blades" in

the process. After a few months, she learned a few more shouts from dungeon crawls, unexpectedly

mostly and went through the ordeal with the world eater, Alduin. Now that was a fight she would never

forget, especially after seeing what awaited her in Sovngarde.

Dalthe sat back on a bench off the road somewhere between Falkreath and Markarth. Well, not really off

the road she mused, more like a hike up some mountains, but regardless. She stretched her muscles,

just enjoying the view. It was peaceful on mountains. The wind blew gently this day and there were

patchy clouds in the sky, making the scene below even more beautiful to her. Dalthe enjoyed the days

as they came because there might not be tomorrow.

She was having a pleasant replay of killing Alduin, eyes closed when someone speaking from behind

interrupted her. She looked back only mildly irritated, but more curious as to who was this far off

the beaten path. She was met with some strange masked and robed figures. She couldn't really tell their gender, though that was probably the point. The masks they wore looked quite like those of the dragon priests... Were they dragon priests?

Dalthe frowned. "Can I help you," she asked.

"Are you the one they call Dragonborn," the shorter of the two asked, hands placed on hips.

Straight forward, more to her style. Dalthe grinned. "Of course," she replied.

"That'll make this easy then," the short one said snarkily. They unsheathed their weapons. "Time for you to die impostor!" They charged at her.

Dalthe's eyes widened in surprise. She jumped back to avoid the swing of an ax, barely missing as it sliced into her bracer. Her great sword was quick to come out of it's sheath and quickly take care of her would be killers. "What was that all about," she wondered aloud, wiping her sword on the robes of the short one.

Dalthe knelt by the bodies and scoured them for any clues. She found a paper folded in a pocket along with a dagger and some dried meat. The paper was for her to be killed by them before she got to Solstheim. Where was Solstheim? "Easiest way to find out it to find that ship they mention," she stated. She really liked to talk out loud.

Dalthe tapped the side of the boat, The Northern Maiden she was called. After going to Solitude and then across the country to Windhelm, Dalthe had found what she was looking for. There was waiting though, a few weeks in fact where she was around Windhelm. But that didn't matter now. The ship was here and she was going to this mysterious place called Solstheim.


	2. To the Temple

She knew she should be excited, should be looking to the horizon with an adventurous gaze, but Dalthe could do be neither of these as she once again heaved over the side of the ship. The ship's crew chuckled the first few times but now they just felt sorry for her. Dalthe had never before traveled this far by boat, or for that matter been on many boats, so she was having a hard time adapting. As Dalthe stood at the side of the ship gripping the railing and staring down into the dark waves below, the captain walked to her.

Gjalund pat her back in a reassuring gesture. "Should be there within the day. You and your lovely land will be together again soon," he joked.

Dalthe didn't look up merely putting her thumb up in response. She was smiling slightly from his comment though.

Gjalund nodded at Dalthe and chuckled. "Funny to see hardened warriors turn as you do, but it's more common than you'd think. Most people don't do well out to sea." He pat her back once more. "Take care over here, I've gotta get back to directing my crew."

Dalthe heaved a heavy breath. "Y-yep," she said shakily, going back to gripping the railing furiously. First thing when going back to Skyrim, find potion that fights sea sickness then drink furiously, she thought miserably.

It took a few more hours, but just as the Captain had said shore came into sight. Dalthe had never been so happy to see land. She stood shakily at the bow of the ship, leaning forward as the land came into focus. The ship pulled into dock and Dalthe was the first one off the ship. She hadn't brought much with her except coin, armor, weapons and usual survival essentials. "OH LAND! SWEET LAND," she yelled, laying face first on the ground once she felt in under her feet.

The crew of the Northern Maiden burst into laughter at that. "Never seen someone do that," someone commented offhandedly. There were murmurs of agreement.

When Dalthe got her fill of the ground, she stood and decided to look around. The first thing she noticed was high walls off surrounding the place, the large manor made of thick stones and many smaller buildings that looked like they came off the backs of a chaurus. In her fascination, Dalthe ran into a man. She looked at him slightly startled, then grinned as she eyed him. There were a few people here dress like him, in a strange golden armor.

The dunmer guard before her frowned, brows furrowed in disdain. "Oh great another outsider," he drawled, crossing his arms. "Just what we need."

"Good to know I'm wanted," Dalthe commented, not at all perturbed by his words. "So who's and what's there to do around here?"

The dunmer paused. His eyes narrowed at her suspiciously, but there was nothing he could do to her, yet. The thought amused him dryly, though his face stayed passive as it was. "Modyn Veleth leads the city guard. You'll find him usually in the Bulwark or patrolling the city. It shouldn't be hard to find him, it isn't a big city," The guard explained, pointing out the areas as he spoke. "And head of the town is First Councillor Morvayn. Usually in his home or at the Retching Netch, the tavern over there." He pointed out one of the short chitinous looking buildings just down the road. "You'll find the smith across the street from that and the mine just down the road. Mind you, the mine is closed so don't go towards it."

Dalthe nodded and crossed her arms, eyes following his movements to each of the spaces. That's when Dalthe noticed the strange green light down by the shore. It looked to be coming from an outcropping of stones and archways. "What's that over there," she asked, pointing at it.

The guard followed her gaze and frowned. "That is... I know it...," he turned back to her looking thorough put off. "It is a shrine, but I don't know what for."

Curious, Dalthe headed off towards the shrine at a sprint. "Thanks for your help," she said loudly to the dunmer.

At the shrine, Dalthe felt a light thrumming in her bones. It felt like something, some power was pulling her towards the shrine. More intent to find out what it was, she looked over the strange outcropping. In the middle was a tall, thin stone surrounded by shallow water and all around it there were people building up arches to surround it. Dalthe tapped one of the workers on the shoulder, intent on getting some answers, but they didn't answer. For a fact, all the people working on the project looked as if they were in a trance, repeating the same words over and over again. Something about... "Here in his shrine that they have forgotten." Who was he?

Dalthe shifted her stance, shaking out her limbs. The ringing thrumming in her bones had intensified and it made her want to touch the stone. With her fingers merely inches from the stone, she was halted by someone calling out to her. Coming back to her senses, Dalthe turned to see a dunmer standing back from the shrine looking at her. She stepped away from the shrine, feet splashing in the shallow water before she came back onto the dirt road.

"Yes, You there... You don't seem to be in quite the same state as the others here. Very interesting," the dunmer commented.

Dalthe looked over the man. His face was sharp lines with high cheekbones. He had a long well kept goatee with only stubbly hair atop his head and dark red eyes while wearing decorated robes in copper tones with a subdued colored scarf over his light grey skin. He is eyeing Dalthe curiously as if she were an interesting new insect for a collection. "What are they doing here," Dalthe asked, getting the attention off of her. She chanced a glance back a the stone. She still felt that pull, but not as sharply now that she was engaged with this man.

"I'm not so sure myself, but I find it terribly interesting to see," he said, surveying the shrine with an acute gaze.

"You're not going to try to stop them," Dalthe frowned. She placed her hands on her hips. "That doesn't seem like a good thing."

"I've no idea how to stop them, as I've gone to quite a length to shield myself from the stone's effects. I don't know which charm it is that is protecting me, but I shall figure that out soon," the elf replied, pursing his ever frowning lips. "Plus, I would like to see what happens when it is finished."

Dalthe surveyed the people working on the shrine. It went from common folk to even the guards in their peculiar armor. Dalthe felt uneasy the more she looked at it, though the pull in her bones felt strangely homely and that unsettled her more than anything else. Then it crossed her mind, "Who is Miraak," she questioned, gazing at the elf. He stood just below her in height she noticed, though she wasn't that tall for a Nord. "I'm looking for him."

"Miraak.. Miraak... It sounds familiar but I can't quite place," his face twisted up in consternation, then went lax. He snapped his fingers. "Ah yes. I recall, but that makes very little sense. Hmm. Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."

Dalthe tapped her chin. "And that means what exactly?"

The dunmer chuckled. "I'm not sure, but it is fascinating, isn't it. Perhaps it has relation to what's going on here," he swiped his hand towards the shrine. "Quite unexpected. I'm afraid I can't give you any answers. But there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's towards the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there."

"Thank you. Who are you by the way? So I don't forget," Dalthe asked, pausing before taking off.

"I am Neloth. I usually prefer to stay home and conduct my research in peace. It's much more convenient that way," Neloth responded, scrutinizing the structure once more.

"The names Dalthe," Dalthe replied automatically. "Thanks for the tip Neloth." Then she was off.

Dalthe stopped in at the Retching Netch, unsure where else to buy some supplies. Upon entering, the air felt warmer and much more inviting, though the inside was not at all what she expected. At the far end of the room was a raging fire, though just before it was a wide staircase leading down into what appeared to be the rest of the building. Dalthe hadn't expected it to be underground, and she was nearly jumping with anticipation to see what the rest of the city was like. She looked around at the few people that were sitting on this level. A dunmer to the left with a spike of hair looked absolutely miserable and kept glancing between the orc across the way and the floor. The orc in looked prudish in his upper-class clothing as he looked on some papers with a personal guard standing just off to the side.

There were so many dunmer, Dalthe thought. The only place she'd seen this many dunmer had been in Windhelm in the Grey Quarter and that was a wretched place. The only other person on this level was a man in chitinous looking armor who had been watching her since she walked in. She couldn't see the man's face behind his helmet and goggles and that made her curious. That curiosity could wait though as she went down and bought some supplies from the innkeeper and room to stay for the night. Dalthe stayed up a while to talk with the locals. Resting to regain herself fully from being on the sea for a week and a half was a much needed, at least for the evening.

After getting some rations and having a nice fill of alcohol, Dalthe crashed into her rented room. She unhooked and dropped her gear to the floor before plopping onto the wooden bed covered in furs. It didn't take long before she was dead to world for the evening.

Dalthe woke groggily to a knocking on the door. It took a moment as she looked around to remember where she was, oh yeah, the tavern in Solstheim. "..nnn... Come in," she said louder than necessary, voice laced with sleep.

The door to the rented room opened quietly. That interesting man from the night before entered, shutting the door just as quietly behind him. Dalthe rubbed the sleep in her eyes, unsure as to why this man was in here. Had she done something yesterday maybe? When did she talk to him...

"You look confused," the man stated, his voice was deep but also gravelly like it was a fine sandpaper. "I came in here to see if we were off today. You hired me last night, though you appeared to be out of your wits, drunk."

Realization hit Dalthe making her nod in understanding. "Right, right," she groaned, stretching out her tired muscles. She kicked off the covers, leaving her in just her unders. Dalthe stood up and stretched unabashedly.

"Quite the traveler aren't you," the covered man commented, looking over her.

Dalhe grinned. "I live for the battle and the days as they come," she stated. She looked at the ground, at her stuff strewn about everywhere. "So since I don't actually remember a damn thing, what's your name?"

"Teldryn Sero, best mercenary you'll find on Solstheim," the man said. He took a seat at the small table in the corner of the room, continuing to watch his new patron with interest. "Last night you said something about finding a man named Miraak. About people being sent to kill you in, ah yes, Skyrim was it? What is that all about?"

"Oh, I said that," Dalthe asked. She was busy pulling on individual clothes and leathers and buckling to look up at Teldryn. "Yeah, these weirdly dressed people came and tried to kill me. Calling me blasphemous and a fake dragonborn, but that's what I'm here for. I'd never heard of Solstheim before that, so this will work out for all parties if this goes right."

"So where are we headed," Teldryn asked, tilting his head.

"To some temple in the mountains," Dalthe nodded, tying the last buckle into place. "Do you have a map?

Dalthe coughed as ash from the air went into her lungs. "How do you stand this stuff," she hacked, arm covering her face as she and Teldryn trudged through knee-deep ash covered snow.

"You get used to living in it after you live here for so long," Teldryn said. Dalthe could hear the grin in his voice. "Plus the mask helps."

"I'll have to invest in one of those soon." Dalthe looked ahead. The temple was visible in the distance. "There it is!"

"There it is," Teldryn stated, chuckling. "You are very animated. It is refreshing."

"Thank you. I do live to please," Dalthe laughed, stopping and turning to Teldryn. She gave him a mocking bow. "My lord."

Teldryn cackled. "Don't ever say that again," he rasped. "I quite like my status now, thank you. Hehe."

Dalthe grinned and continued on, moving at a more up beat pace, though not much faster as the snow was still to her knees.

After lots of trudging, the two finally reached the steps at the bottle of the monstrously large temple. Dalthe let out a low whistle. "It's alot bigger than I thought it'd be, all things considering."

"That what you tell all your bed partners," Teldryn joked.

"Only the really good ones," Dalthe said, wiggling her eyebrows at the dunmer.

Teldryn nearly choked on his laughter. "I'll give you that one." He then surveyed the area.

The stairs ran up a ways and there were large archways across the tops every dozen or so steps. The arches met in jutting spikes at the top and continued down to large stone black stone bases. At a few of these bases stood more people from around Solstheim, either mining, placing stones or worshiping the grounds of these pillars. "They seem to be like those people back in Ravenrock around that eerie stone," Teldryn commented dryly.

"Well.. There's only one way to find out what's going on here," Dalthe said and started to ascend the steps.


End file.
